


Memento Mori (Remember You Will Die)

by lilkitmin



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Oops, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Violence, and yes many ships, creative liberties i guess, i dont know what it all will include yet so i am just going to list everything i can, i guess there's a love triangle in a way, there will be smut, they are kind of mixed, yes they are all in it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilkitmin/pseuds/lilkitmin
Summary: Thirteen boys with aligned, parallel fates in the ancient world.Scandals, secrets, gore, and sex.Unfortunately, nothing is more harrowing than living in this time.What is bad only seems to get worse.Trigger warnings for: (see chapter 1 for more info)Mentioning of sexual abuse/rapeMentioning of underage relationships and possibly sex in the past. All are of age at the time of the story, but their pasts may include some of this so be warned.Violence/gorePossible character death (not really a trigger warning but I know some people hate so I am including it here)Possible physical abuseOppression and slavery I guess





	1. Basic About (Really Long Author's Note)

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicates this story to Charly who encouraged me to not abandon this story. Thank you so much, dear friend~
> 
> (If I need I will change the about and summary as needed)

I am sorry this is really vague and I want to post it now because I am honestly so excited. I haven't been so excited to write for the longest time and I am so eager to share this with everyone. This world is a combined place of ancient greece and rome in away (but I guess that is okay I mean they are koreans living in the ancient world so like...it is fanfiction it is for fun??)

For those curious, I took most of my inspiration for this story on the practice of pederasty. I recommend looking it up if you wish but essentially it was an older man (called the erastes) and younger male (called the eromenos) who engaged in a "socially acknowledged romantic relationship." The eromenos is said to be typically in his teens, and in my story, both of the eromenoses are over twenty, but at the time their relationship starts is when they are teenagers. This is why I list "underage" as a trigger warning but I don't use a warning because it is not going to be shown, only discussed and talked about. According to wikipedia (which we know is always true) relationships were based on consent, no matter what age. I am not saying I agree with this practice or support it, but I wish to explore it. If you know this will be a problem I suggest not reading please. One of the main characters is an eromenos.

I also wished to try a story where there is multiple storylines. I know some people do it and it doesn't come out well, but I thought it would suit Seventeen well.

As mentioned, this is a very "mature" fic so reader discretion is advised. Please be careful and proceed if you wish. Apparently I have a knack of wanting to write about "hard topics"...I'm sorry...

Comments and kudos appreciated! Thank you if you read this. <3

Trigger warnings relisted:  
Mentioning of sexual abuse/rape  
Mentioning of underage relationships and possibly sex in the past. All are of age at the time of the story, but their pasts may include some of this so be warned.  
Violence/gore  
Possible character death (not really a trigger warning but I know some people hate so I am including it here)  
Possible physical abuse  
Oppression and slavery I guess


	2. I. Seungcheol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol's birthday celebration that isn't well received

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and edited this so quickly because as I mentioned I am excited. If you found this and bear with me, thank you. I hope you enjoy!

Today Seungcheol turns the same age his mother was when she passed away. He knows he should be happy. It is his birthday, and his father planned a whole grand celebration in his honor. And he can fake a smile for all the hundreds of guests, but nothing can fix the grief collecting in his stomach.

The sun is just setting, casting a glow over the party. Torches are glowing, ready to take over, the party only just starting. Of course, most of the guests already seem drunk. Laughing wildly, flirting, a cacophony of unwelcome sounds.

Seungcheol chugs down another goblet of wine. It is the best he can do to muffle out the sounds.

He wanders through the crowd, clutching his too-hot tunic closer around his body. It is horribly humid, and even with the sun setting, it doesn't seem to be vanishing. He wishes he could leave, wishes he could change.

Some aristocrats pat him on the back, slur some drunken congratulations or encouragement his way. He smiles, nods, thanks them, brushes them off, and then moves away.

He wonders what his mother would be doing if she were here.

"Hani! Come! Come here!" Seungcheol hears his father call. The older man rises from his seat, his hand extended out. Even he already appears uneasy just by standing; wobbling, ready to fall over. He stands taller than Seungcheol can ever hope to be, with a strong-set jaw covered by a thick beard. He wears a similar tunic, but his is grander. Decorated with metals and jewelry, as is his hair which is clipped back and styled for the occasion. 

Despite being his son, Seungcheol knows he looks nothing like the nobleman standing before him. He will always resemble his mother. It doesn't help he keeps his jaw shaven and smooth. Perhaps, in his own way, he means to honor her.

A fresh goblet of wine is placed into his heavy hand by his obedient "Hani." A boy about the same age as Seungcheol. He swears his full name is Jeonghan, but Seungcheol doesn't know for sure because his father prefers "Hani" as well as a slew of other pet names. His long black hair is adorned much more than his father's, laced with glittering gold, threads, and a couple of flowers. His tunic is much thinner, made of the much rarer and far more expensive silk. A couple of petals are stitched on the lining of the dip exposing most of his chest. His eyes are always bright and sparkling, and his lips pulled up into his famous smile that even the gods must envy.

"To my son!" His father resumes. "My pride! My legacy! May he continue to grow as the man he is fated to become. May he drink in patience and knowledge and learn from the masters, the gods themselves. May they cherish him as the studious pupil I know he is. Seungcheol, happy birthday. Drink, be merry, and celebrate your youth before it fades as we all know it will!"

The audience laughs along with his father, even Hani who clearly doesn't seem to have the fading youth Seungcheol has apparently despite being the same age. Seungcheol feigns a smile again. He doesn't know why his mortality must be addressed at this time. He pretends to at least enjoy his father's lame humor.

His father drinks from the goblet, and he passes it back to Hani. The younger descends steps and approaches Seungcheol. He stops in front of him with his annoying, dazzling smile still plastered on his face. He raises up the goblet to Seungcheol, towards his lips. It is insulting. His father allowing his son to borrow his cupbearer for his special occasion. _Erastes_ and _eromenos_ both mocking him.

"Thank you," Seungcheol says. His voice is thick, but he is still grinning, although he feels like he is losing his "happy" mask. He takes the goblet, making it clear he can do it himself, taking a long swig by himself. Proving he doesn't need help or pity or whatever it is. Hani's expression doesn't change as he takes the cup back.

"It’s my honor, your Lordship." His voice is light and airy. Soothing, pretty. Just like his face. Yet it makes Seungcheol's stomach twist more.

He whips around, the cloth floating around him as he storms away. He will find somewhere else to spend his night. Away from his father and his shadow.

***

Seungcheol finds a nearby safe place with people he can somewhat trust. He is lounging on reclining chair. The sun has vanished and torches and candles littered around the area now light the small group he is sitting with. The humidity is only slightly less, and it makes the party a little more bearable.

His mind is foggy. He isn't quite drunk, but he is more than tipsy.

Commander Lee is talking about his son who was called to study under a scholar as a _eromenos_. Seungcheol isn't surprised. He always was bright and possessed a lot of potential. Apparently his "abduction" was a couple moons ago, where the scholar scooped up the son to begin the celebration and feasts then the studies. Seungcheol imagines Jihoon will have a much different role and treatment than Hani does. He can’t explain why, but he just knows it. Maybe because he knows Jihoon isn’t as shameless as Hani.

"It has been awhile since I have seen him. I would like to see him again," Seungcheol comments.

"I will pass along the message and we can arrange a meeting," Commander Lee declares. He calls a wineboy over for another round. He comes over, diligent, carrying about six glasses or so of wine on his tray. He offers one to Commander Lee, and then to the two other men they are sitting with.

Seungcheol stares at him. They have many servants working for them, and a vast array of wineboys. And Seungcheol knows he has seen this one before. He has seen him around, at other parties, a popular boy with women and gents alike. He is distinguishable by his sharp cat-like eyes and playful smile plus a thick head of more brownish hair. Names are never needed; they really don’t exist “as people”, but as servers. To be invisible and called upon to do whatever they wish. Yet Seungcheol stares at this boy, baffled that the wineboy knows all about him and yet he doesn’t know the servant’s name.

“Would you like another round, my Lordship?” The wineboy asks, holding out the tray for Seungcheol to take one if he wishes.

Seungcheol takes one and gulps a long swig of alcohol, relishing as it flows down his throat. The wineboy nods, and bows his head slightly. His smile is much more agreeable, far less annoying than Hani’s and yet he is more of a ghost than the other. He steps back and vanishing to wheresoever from which he came.

The evening begins to drag and become cloying. For him, that is. The other guests are still laughing, shrieking and shouting over one another. Some get sick and then continue to gorge themselves on the plentiful food and drink. Although buzzed, it doesn’t distract Seungcheol. Nor does it comfort him to be so close to drunk. Somehow, the night becomes more and more asinining than before.

He stands up and nods his head to the group, a smile on his face. “Thank you. I am going to turn in for the night. I will see you when I can. Go well, and may the gods protect you.”

The man next to Commander Lee (Jung, Seungcheol remembers as his surname) blanches, clearly surprised that he is already done with his own party. But he doesn’t protest or try to convince him otherwise. He just nods, as do the other men, wishing him well.

Seungcheol wraps his tunic around him, his steps wavering just slightly. His last few lines were slurred, and he knows it and the others must have heard it. It isn’t like the others weren’t slurring, but still it bothers him.

One foot after the other, he heads back to his abode. Seeking his room, ready to strip off his public mask and clothes.

Concentrating on his feet, he doesn’t notice when he steps into the wineboy. His tray collapses and the cups shatter on the ground. Wine splashing both of them, shards surrounding their feet.  
Seungcheol looks up, mouth gaped open, and the wineboy is gazing at the mess on the ground, horrified.

“My Lordship— I-I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Please, please. . .let me help you. Let me clean up. Let me—“

But he isn’t listening. “What’s your name?”

“M-My—“ The wineboy is still stricken, fumbling for words.

“Yes. Your name,” Seungcheol repeats. He doesn’t notice how frantic he sounds. He doesn’t even consider that the boy thinks he is going to report him to his father.

“Joshua. M-My name is Joshua.”

“Joshua,” he repeats. The name is messy in his mouth, the letters sliding over each other drunkenly. His smile widens and he claps a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. The latter flinches. “Nice to meet you Joshua.”

He then kneels and grabs the tray, passing it back to the wineboy. Joshua takes it, his hands noticeably shaking.

“Don’t worry about it,” Seungcheol says, referring to the drinks and the mess on the ground. Joshua stares at him, looking like he is trying to work up the courage to say something but never manages enough of it to do so.

He chuckles, amused by this boy, this pretty, pretty boy. The boy whose only job is to look so handsome and serve them. What an easy life he must lead. No pressure. No expectations too hard to reach.

Seungcheol heads off to his room, a smile on his face from the encounter that slowly fades as reality sets in that, no, no he isn’t happy. It is his birthday and he is not happy and he isn’t going to be happy because he is the same age as his mother when she died and, no, she doesn’t get to live out the rest of her days to be happy with him so he can’t be happy without her.

He pushes the door open with his shoulder and strips his tunic off without even looking up. Ready to change, to sleep.

He grabs his sleeping robe draped on the chair and covers himself once more and he finally looks up and finds a silent boy seated on his bed. Eyes watching him. Watching as Seungcheol changed. Naked, unaware of such a skinny, quiet boy in his room.

“Who are you!?” His voice raises, much louder than it needs to be in the empty building. The boy visibly flinches. He fumbles, grabbing the parchment beside him and collapses onto his knees before Seungcheol, arms extended out and head bowed as he offers it to him.

Seungcheol takes it and tears it open. Of course, he realizes that candles were obviously lit in his room and he clearly wasn’t alone in his room, but his brain was too scattered to even realize.

_“A gift.”_

That is what is written on the roll. Beneath it is his father’s insignia.

“What’s this?” Seungcheol demands, tossing the paper to the side. The boy trembles before him, his head still bowed. His hair is short and he is fully groomed; he was clearly prepared and made to look like this. When he finally lifts his head, Seungcheol sees his eyes: straight and sharp. Eyes that could kill and hold power normally. Yet, this boy doesn’t have it; he can’t even look Seungcheol in the eye. They flicker uneasily. The boy bites his lip.

“Your father prepared me. To be your gift.” The boy’s voice is small, barely a whisper. Even if they are alone and it is silent, Seungcheol can hardly hear him.

Seungcheol groans. Exasperated. No, he doesn’t have time for this. He just wants to sleep and have this day to be over.

He grabs the blanket on his bed and throws it over to the chair his sleeping clothes were resting on just a second ago.

“Go. Sleep.”

Those eyes shift again. Waiting for Seungcheol to say more, and when he doesn’t, he stammers, “B-But—“

“I’m sleeping. You can sleep there. Goodnight.”

Seungcheol goes to his bed, blows out the candle, and lays down. Before he does, he sees the boy standing there, playing with his fingers. Still waiting for something else, whatever that is.

“Goodnight,” Seungcheol repeats, snapping slightly although he doesn’t intend to.

He doesn’t know what the boy does, he can’t see. There is a bit of rustling and Seungcheol assumes he listened.

Of course he listened. 

He is a slave. It is the only thing the boy could be.

Seungcheol closes his eyes. A heaviness sets on him, and he is about to drift off, and then it bothers him again for some reason.

“What is your name?” Seungcheol asks to the darkness. It is quiet for a second, and he is about to assume the boy has already fallen asleep. Or maybe he is simply pretending to be.

“Soonyoung..”

He does answer him. Probably better to answer the nobleman’s son than to play dumb.

Something about knowing the name makes Seungcheol feel content.

And then he sleeps.


	3. II. Joshua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the night continues, Joshua receives more attention than he ever expected. Whether it is good or bad, he doesn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read so far! It sounds silly but I really didn't expect readers so the love I got so far is more than I already expected. T.T I don't know how long this story will be, but it already feels like it will be long (I mean when you have 13 characters and chapters for all of them--)
> 
> Right now, I am adding character chapters as we meet them. So you may have to wait awhile for some others, but I thought it would flow better that way.
> 
> Also I made a carat twitter because apparently I want to cry even more over them and their pictures and videos. If you wish to follow me, I am @seraph_jeonghan.

Joshua watches as the nobleman's son, Seungcheol, leaves. His grip tightens on the tray and he can't figure out if he is more surprised or confused. What happened so suddenly, and then to have him ask for his name? Unless he plans to report him. Why else would he want it? That has to be why he wanted it.

When he turns back, he is greeted with a force to the side of his face so powerful it makes his ear ring. He can feel the blood rushing there, his skin already turning red. He averts his gaze away from the newcomer.

"I will be damned by you, Joshua! Have you no respect? What is wrong with you!?"

The slap connects again, this time with his cheek, and Joshua remains quiet, eyes trained on the ground, knowing this is just the beginning of it. If anything, he is lucky he is just getting slapped.

"Did you splash him? Did you cut him?" He demands. "Did you even have the sense to apologize?"

"I don't think--"

"Clean this up."

He snaps his fingers and Joshua quickly drops down to his knees to pick up the pieces. He may only be two years older than Joshua, but he has a higher status, even if just by a little bit. He has the most experience and keeps the boy servers in their place.

"What a waste," he mutters. 

Joshua doesn't reply. He collects what is left onto the tray. Moving quickly to not upset him further. Quickly to make him leave.

“So am I to get my own wine?”

Joshua looks up and blanches. The nobleman’s  _ eromenos  _ stands before them, leaning back lazily, regarding them with a superior air. His voice slow and hazy, yet not sounding nearly as drunk as the others at the party.

“S-Sir Jeonghan, I am sorry,” Joshua’s superior says. He bows his head and glares at Joshua. “You see, there was an incident—“

“Do I have to wait and hear your story before I have my wine?” Jeonghan asks. Slow and quiet, but clearly annoyed.

“Ah! Of course not. Let me. . .” He straightens quickly and moves to serve the  _ eromenos _ . Joshua remains on his hands and knees, cleaning the ground, keeping his gaze on the remaining glittering shards. Of course he was going to blame Joshua. So quick to redirect any wrath of Sir Jeonghan or Lord Choi. He waits, preparing for the scolding from one of his masters.

“What an ass. If he saw, which he must have, it is clear it was not your fault.”

Joshua stiffens from the unexpected words. He only allows himself the faintest peek at the man before him. So thin and beautiful, looking as stunning as a demigod. Or more. Enough to put even Aphrodite to shame.

“If he lays a finger on you again, let me know.”

Words escape Joshua. He is trying to figure out what to say, wondering if he even heard him correctly. His ear is still ringing and maybe more damage was done than he realized. So much that he is hearing everything wrong.

The other returns, presenting the goblet of wine to Jeonghan. He lowers himself, extending the cup out. Head bowed as he speaks, “It is my honor to present this before you, Sir Cupbearer.”

Jeonghan studies him but doesn’t take the cup. “Honor,” he repeats. The word comes out slow, thick as honey. His delicate fingers close finally around the cup. “If you have any honor, which I also doubt, then you will no longer touch this boy.” He gestures towards Joshua with his goblet. “Or else I will personally oversee your lashings in the square.”

“Sir—“ Joshua blurts out. As if he has words, as if he finally found something to say. Which he hasn’t.

And, thankfully, he doesn’t have to pretend he does. His superior speaks up, cutting Joshua off, his voice overpowering Joshua’s.

“Sir Jeonghan! He collided with Lord Seungcheol. Disrespected the noble family—“

“I believe that isn’t what happened,” Jeonghan replies, an eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of the wine. He takes a long, slow drink, leaving Joshua’s superior baffled and it is his turn to be speechless. “If you dare to contradict me, then I encourage you. And we will see if you will get away without consequences.”

“S-Sir—!”

Jeonghan thrusts his hand to Joshua, making the latter jump slightly. “Stand. I have a job for you.”

Joshua hesitates but then takes the  _ eromenos’ _ s hand into his own. Confused, but not wishing to deny him.

“I believe you have something to clean up,” Jeonghan says, glancing at Joshua’s superior then the dirt. Joshua sees his superior wishing to protest, but he also has the sense to not go against Jeonghan. He takes Joshua’s spot, cleaning up what is left there with his hands.

“Come,” Jeonghan says simply. He releases Joshua’s hand. He does not wait to see if Joshua follows, turning and making his way through the clearing. Joshua knows he doesn’t have much of a choice again. He listens, a step behind Jeonghan.

“S-Sir,” Joshua whispers from behind. He is surprised he found the courage, and even more surprised the other hears him under the roar of laughter and glee around them. “I-I have duties to atten—“

“You are dismissed for the rest of the night. Your time will be much better spent in my company.”

Eyes widen and dart from Jeonghan, to the other guests, to the host of the party. He is laughing, a hand on his stomach, eyes watering as he listens to a story from one of the visiting high-ranking nobles. It doesn’t seem like he misses Jeonghan, and maybe he doesn’t even notice he left his side. “S-Sir—“

Jeonghan waves Joshua’s protest away with a flick of his wrist. “Enough! I am bored,” he groans the last word, bordering on the verge of whiny, “and I want some company. I have chosen you. Do you wish to deny my company?”

As a wineboy, he knows what is expected of him. To look pretty and handsome, to steal the attention of everyone, give them a pleasant sight as they celebrate. To accept when people wish to steal him away, to enjoy his beauty on a more personal level. However, he never expected Jeonghan would be one of those to call upon him, to wish for his time.

He doesn’t voice this, nor does he dare to think of it further. He shakes his head, lips pressed into a tight line. If Jeonghan wants company, he will give it to him.

Whatever that may mean.

Jeonghan‘s lips pull into a wide grin, and then he breaks it with another sip of wine. He turns to one of the nearby tables littered with food. An array of breads and cheeses, as well as plump grapes and the meat from a variety of animals for Seungcheol’s honor. Joshua’s stomach complains from the sight; they are never allowed to eat until everyone else is done. If there is anything left.

Jeonghan‘s thin fingers grasp a honeyed bread and he holds it up to Joshua. So close that the honey sticks to Joshua’s lips, and he resists licking them. Jeonghan‘s eyebrows pull up. Expectant. Waiting. Joshua knows what he wants him to do, yet he is still hesitant. Torn between disobeying and breaking any rules he knows.

He engulfs the piece of bread, his lips sliding over Jeonghan’s fingers that don’t let go until all of it is in his mouth, sliding away carefully as if to make sure Joshua will keep it there. His cheeks puff up; the bread really is too big to eat at once, yet he does. Chewing slowly, savoring the explosion of sweet on his tongue, savoring the treat he so rarely is allowed. His stomach is singing, and his eyes almost tearing.

He swallows. And he craves more.

“There,” Jeonghan says with a subtle tilt of his head and Joshua finds his own cheeks heating up. He doesn’t know if it is visible under the torches, doesn’t know if the other can see it. A titillating rush from trusting the  _ eromenos  _ fills him. From breaking the rules and getting away with it. He wants more. More of the bread. More of the freedom.

Following Jeonghan, they end up heading just outside the celebration and into the few trees until they reach an isolated clearing by the river. The moon shines on the dark blue water, the full image broken up by the ripples. There are no torches or candles over here; it is their only light. Jeonghan finds a rock to rest on, closing his eyes and tilting his head up. His skin glows, almost pale. Making him seem even more unearthly.

Perhaps he really is a god.

Joshua stands beside a tree. Unsure what to do or what to say. He waits for Jeonghan's guidance, but it doesn't come. So instead he plays with the leaves that are still flush and full from the sun long before.

The bottom of his tunic is still damp from the wine, ear throbbing ever so slight and dull. Tongue and lips blanketed in honey.

How could both happen on the same night?

He wonders if anyone saw. He wonders if he will still get in trouble. No, he couldn't refuse the sweet, yet he will still be punished. A double-edged sword; a game he is predestined to lose.

He wonders if Jeonghan meant what he said. Everything he said, yes, but if he really meant what he told his superior.

_ You will no longer touch this boy or else I will personally oversee your lashings in the square. _

The trees absorb some of the noise, yet Joshua can still hear them. The drunken noise. He remembers  _ Dominus  _ Choi. Jeonghan is always at his side. Clearly he must be missed. He must have a group searching for him.

"S-Sir. . .?" Joshua finally finds his voice. Jeonghan remains an unmoving marble sculpture. He doesn't reply, yet for some reason, Joshua senses he heard him. "I don't mean to be rude, but won't you be missed?"

Jeonghan still doesn't move, and Joshua wonders if he could have fallen asleep, but then he says, "Miss me? His mind is so filled with wine I doubt he even remembers his own name and title." Jeonghan finally opens his eyes again; Joshua can only tell because the moon catches them and they seem to sparkle.

"Come," he pats the rock. "Join me. You must be tired of standing."

Joshua moves slowly beside Jeonghan. He sits carefully onto the rock, squared to the river. Not wanting to look or touch Jeonghan. Not wanting to make a wrong move.

Jeonghan sighs then pushes more wine down, surprising Joshua that he still has it and there is still wine in there. Joshua turns away from him again.

"I have just never seen him without you," he confesses. He blurts it out, and he doesn’t know why, but it just comes out before he could even consider saying it.

Jeonghan swirls the wine in his cup and doesn't respond, nor does he even act like he heard Joshua again.

"What's your name?"

"Joshua."

"Did Byungcheol give you that name?"

Joshua doesn't confirm it, although his silence does.

"What's your real name?"

"Joshua is my real name, S-Sir..."

In a faint outline, Joshua sees Jeonghan purse his lips, but he doesn't press further.

"Have you ever had wine, Joshua?"

The latter shivers when he hears his name being said. Not used to it being said. Let alone from someone so powerful and ethereal.

"I have."

"At an event like this?"

"When I'm allowed," Joshua says, but what he really means is when he is asked.

"Then I'm allowing it."

The goblet is lifted up to Joshua, not far from his lips, mimicking what he originally did the with honey bread. Joshua stiffens. His heart pounds in his chest and he swallows thickly, looking for words and being betrayed again.

Yet he still tries to form a sentence.

"I. . .but you're the. . ."

It is in his mind, the sentence he means to say. He can't even form it, but he can sense what he wishes to say. Jeonghan is the  _ eromenos  _ to the nobleman. He is his cupbearer. A special position and honorary title reserved for the  _ eromenos _ . As Ganymede to Zeus. Meant to serve and quench the thirst of the highest god or to someone of a much higher rank.

Not to a lowly wineboy.

"You're reading too much into it." There is a subtle sparkle in Jeonghan's eye when he speaks, twinkling like stars. "From a man to another man. Do you wish to have some?"

He wonders if this is a trick. What could Jeonghan benefit from him drinking from the goblet? Part of him isn't trusting, wondering if it is a test. Maybe Jeonghan is only trying to see if he will drink from it, and then laugh and spill it on him. Mock him.

But Joshua has craved refreshment ever since he tasted the bread. Honey still lines his cheeks and tongue in an overwhelming thick and sinful way. He wishes to wash it away. A forbidden treat cleansed with a forbidden drink.

Even if he still doesn't trust Jeonghan, he nods. 

Maybe it is himself he shouldn't trust.

The rim touches his bottom lip and Jeonghan tilts it slowly. Joshua opens his mouth as the liquid pours in, his eyes closing. It splashes over his tongue, washing away the last of the sugary coating. The pressure eases on his lip, and it stops flowing, and Joshua swallows. The subtle sting of alcohol makes him tremble.

Joshua then gasps and realizes he is breathless and blood is echoing in his injured ear. His eyes open and he finds Jeonghan watching him. His smile is back, but there is something different in it. Something mischievous. Dangerous.

Their eyes meet for just a second and Joshua tries to understand what Jeonghan is thinking. It doesn’t last long. Jeonghan breaks it when he turns and throws his head back, finishing the rest of the wine.

"See? Harmless."

Harmless. Not the word Joshua would use.

Addicting? Maybe.


	4. III. Seungcheol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day after the celebration, Seungcheol is left to be the responsible one yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the continued love. I am just so happy you guys seem to enjoy it ;A;
> 
> Also, new chapters will appear when new characters are introduced. So you are stuck with Joshua and Seungcheol for a little bit. I planned on introducing another one next, but I changed my mind. But there will be someone else soon I promise! I may be whipped for the 95line but it isn’t only about them jeioajfeoiajoi

Seungcheol wakes suddenly around dawn. In an ungraceful way, he falls out of his bed, pawing at the floor as he tries to get a grip on something. He feels around until he finds the container he was looking for, and he gets sick.

He doesn't hear the shuffling behind him and hardly registers a candle being lit.

"M-My lord. . . ?"

It is the slave, barely audible underneath his own retching. Seungcheol waves him off; he forgot he wasn't alone, and he wishes he was.

He groans and leans back when it passes and it feels like his whole stomach is out of his body.

He closes his eyes, but opens them when he senses the slave next to him once more. He glances up with one eye. The slave holds out a goblet.

"M-My lord. . ."

Without hesitating, Seungcheol takes it and rinses his mouth with the watered down wine. He spits it out then swallows the rest of the drink.

He exhales. "Thank you. . ."

"Can I do anything else for you, my lord?" The slave is shifting from foot to foot in anticipation.

"You are Soonyoung. I'm Seungcheol. Call me that." He swallows, his stomach turning again, but this time he keeps whatever is left down.

Soonyoung shakes his head, and Seungcheol sighs again.

"Go lay back down. I'm sorry I woke you."

Confused, Soonyoung studies him. And Seungcheol decides he has had enough of this slave acting like an annoying slave and he glares at Soonyoung. The other jumps, but quickly returns to his sleeping area. Maybe it was mean, but it was effective.

Seungcheol also returns to his bed and curls up in a ball. His insides continue to try to murder him, but he doesn't get sick again. His head pounds right behind his eyeballs, as if something is trying to push them out of their sockets.

Sleep evades him, but he at least rests until he feels somewhat better. When he eases back up to sit, Soonyoung moves, ready to serve.

"Stay," Seungcheol orders in a stern way that makes him sound like his father. Gods, he feels sick again. He tries one more time: "I will bring you food. Just wait here."

Soonyoung nods, his eyes round and glowing in the candlelight.

Seungcheol leaves his quarters and heads down to the lower level. With each step, the pain continues to stab like a dagger, going deeper and deeper.

He rubs his forehead as he enters the eating room. Servers mingle around, bringing out fresh platters and goblets. They greet Seungcheol, and he only nods in response, not wishing to find words.

Only his father's  _ eromenos _ is lounged on a sitting couch in his long robes. Of course they are an expensive violet gifted from his father. More of his money goes to his beloved Hani than to his people.

"Good morning." He greets Seungcheol, his mouth half-full, his lips wrapped around a plump grape. Like he is the finest royal around. It occurs to Seungcheol that he can't recall his full name, yet he knows the name of his gifted slave.

"Where is my father?" He grumbles. He is in no mood to fake pleasantries with him today.

"Sleeping. I imagine he won't be joining us for quite awhile."

Seungcheol wrinkles his nose as he eases into the seat across from the  _ eromenos _ . He isn't surprised; his father always overdoes it and is useless the next day. Sometimes the day after as well.

As usual, the household matters are left for Seungcheol to handle.

"Surprised he let you out," Seungcheol mutters, mostly to himself, but he doesn't care if Hani hears. 

Which he does, and he laughs quietly. "He doesn't have complete control over me."

That is a load of bull, but Seungcheol doesn't say it. Most of the days his father is bedridden, he enjoys having Hani by his side to keep him company or. . .whatever. Seungcheol doesn't wish to know what they do.

Loading up a piece of bread with cheese, Seungcheol forces it down. At least something needs to be in his stomach. If his body accepts it is another story.

Knowing that is all he can probably handle, Seungcheol chases it down with more of the watery wine. He gathers more of the bread and cheese onto a tray, as well as some of the fruit and a drink for the slave.

"Then I'm heading out to do what my father should be doing. I will be back by dinner. Go ahead and inform him if he decides to act alive.”

Balancing the food carefully, he starts to make his way back to his quarters when the  _ eromenos _ stands up behind him.

"I will accompany you."

It isn't a question at all. It is a statement.

Seungcheol is left wondering who really has more power: Hani or him. His father's lover or his father's son.

"Are you sure you don't wish to wait until he calls you to his bed?" Seungcheol asks. He feels a devious smirk on his lips and he knows it may not be the nicest thing to say, to remind another man he is there for only satisfaction and company, yet it feels so good.

Hani's head tilts a little and something shimmers in his eyes. Sympathy? Pity? It confuses Seungcheol and his smirk evaporates.

"I'm sure he won't be able to tell if I'm here or not." He wraps his ridiculous purple cloth tighter around himself. "This way I can make sure you do his job properly."

Scoffing, Seungcheol leaves him.

Clearly Hani thinks an  _ eromenos _ holds more power than a son.

Returning to his room, he places the tray onto his own bed as Soonyoung sits up again, watching Seungcheol carefully.

"Here. Eat. You probably don't get enough, so just. . ." He sighs. "Just eat, okay?" He doesn't comment on how skinny he looks. He doesn't ask how much slaves are fed. "You can do whatever you wish. You are free for the day." He pauses, frowning. "Come back to my room around dinner."

A faint red tints the top of Soonyoung's ears, but the slave nods. Seungcheol knows he is expecting Seungcheol to take advantage of his present finally, to use him for what he was gifted for, but Seungcheol only wishes him to be safe. To show his father he enjoys his present, even if he doesn't. For Soonyoung's safety.

He goes to leave, but he hesitates in the entrance.

"Soonyoung?" he says and Soonyoung quickly faces Seungcheol again, ready for orders he always seems to expect. "What is Hani's real name?"

Soonyoung stutters, as if he is unsure Seungcheol is serious. Clearly he must know Hani's real name?

"J-Jeonghan."

"Jeonghan," he repeats, the name heavy on his tongue. At least he was right.

He nods his thanks to Soonyoung, then he leaves.

***

Thankfully, they don’t have to walk a long way to the city. As with all the powerful nobles, their home borders the area. Seungcheol’s father being one of the most powerful, they are able to have one of the bigger and closer homes.

Seungcheol feels ridiculous. Walking to the hall to complete his father’s job alongside his own father’s lover who is not even older than him. Not to mention Jeonghan is still dressed in his ridiculous robes. They are longer and fan out behind him; everything on him looking so much annoyingly more impressive and important than Seungcheol’s own black tunic.

Jeonghan looks like an emperor’s consort, while Seungcheol could easily be any average noble.

It only becomes worse when Jeonghan tries to speak with him.

“I assume you enjoyed last night,” he says as their shoes crack and crunch along the stoned path underneath. “Not as much as your father, obviously.”

“No one enjoys celebrations as much as him,” Seungcheol comments under his breath. He doesn’t reply to the question, and the other man makes a small sound of agreement.

“You are very right. The man sure does know how to enjoy himself.”

Flashes from Seungcheol’s memory of slave boys and girls leaving his father’s quarters are very unwelcome. Not to mention Jeonghan—

He doesn’t wish to go there.

“Did you have fun?” Seungcheol asks. He wonders if he sounds as indifferent as he feels. He hopes it doesn’t come across in his voice, but he also isn’t entirely sure if he really cares if it does.

“More or less,” Jeonghan says. His hair falls the block the view of his face as he glances down. Seungcheol suddenly wonders if Jeonghan is hungover. He certainly doesn’t seem like it. If he is, he isn’t as bad as Seungcheol, let alone his father.

The cloud breaks away from the sun and Seungcheol squints at the town hall finally coming into view. There is a constant throbbing from his brain or whatever, and it only gets worse as it gets brighter.

Eventually they reach the stairs and enter the building. It is made of a bright white stone that glows blindingly in the sunlight. Seungcheol is evermore thankful when they enter it and the light dims.

“Seungcheol! A very happy birthday!”

An older man who is buddies with his father wraps an arm around Seungcheol, reeking of wine and bile. Seungcheol forces a smile, nods his head, and slips away, and resumes following Jeonghan who didn’t even bother to stop.

When he catches up, the other tilts his head to the side, grinning mischievously. “Clearly you are meant to still be celebrating. Others are in your honor.”

“There’s nothing worth celebrating,” he grumbles and remembers his mother.

The main room is built in a large circular fashion with stone seats lining the walls. Open, square windows are carved to allow the sunlight in for light. Of course, the walls inside are also white and the throbbing in his head intensifies. Some men greet him, but Seungcheol remains polite but short with them. All he wishes is to get this over with.

Some others greet Jeonghan. He is obviously still smiling in his amiable way, making everyone around him feel as if he truly appreciates them, which proves to be more annoying than his head pain.

“Hey, happy birthday,” a voice on his left says. Seungcheol internally groans, not wishing to tolerate anyone else. He turns to thank him, doing his best to sound sincere, but ends up stopping mid sentence when he recognizes his new company.

“You don’t wish to thank me?” Hansol asks with a subtle laugh. “Understandable because I couldn’t make it—“

“Shut up,” Seungcheol groans. His lips stretch nevertheless in amusement. “I thought you were another drunken idiot.”

Hansol gasps. “I assure you I am nothing but a drunken idiot!”

Seungcheol shakes his head, chuckling. The laughter actually hurt, yet it is more welcomed when it is brought upon by an unexpected friend.

“I thought you were still off in Egypt,” Seungcheol finally says when they both stop laughing. Hansol takes longer to do so, and Seungcheol wonders if he truly is a little bit drunk.

Hansol stretches his legs out and leans back a little. “I was. Returned a couple days ago. Probably heading out again soon.”

Pursing his lips, Seungcheol watches the men gather in their seats. They are getting ready to begin.

“Doesn’t feel the same without you here,” Seungcheol confesses. What he doesn’t say is that it would never be the same if Hansol was killed in battle and that he always fears for it. Ever since his friend became a centurion, it became his biggest fear. His best friend, slaughtered by barbarians somewhere far away.

“Doesn’t feel the same without you there,” Hansol replies and nudges Seungcheol.

A man moves to the center of the circle, calling out for the talking to cease and for the meeting to begin. Straightening up in his seat, Seungcheol feigns interest and attention. Hansol also sits up, but Jeonghan remains lounged as he always does, as if he is too good to be in a meeting among the most important men in their city-state.

The man in the center, otherwise known by the surname Kim and as the messenger to the Emperor, recites the words of blessing over the meeting. When he finishes the words to start the event, he talks about the issues with trade. Some address this and give input. Another shouts something drunkenly, making everyone snicker, but Seungcheol starts to tune all of them out. Everyone is suddenly too loud and all of it overwhelming. His mind goes elsewhere, lost in thoughts that help dull his headache.

The topic of war comes up and Hansol takes part, standing up and addressing the concerns and giving updates. Seungcheol listens a bit to his friend, frowning when he hears of a stalemate and the Emperor insisting to gather more supplies and men.

It is why Hansol is here: away from battle simply so he can go back to it.

His mind turns over Hansol’s words and he hardly realizes when he is addressed, asking where his father is. Only half-hearing the question, it doesn’t register in his mind to respond. Not until something clicks together when Hansol kicks him.

“Ah—!”

Seungcheol stands up abruptly and that only upsets his condition more. He clenches his teeth for a second, then replies, “I am here in the place of my father today. He is. . .”  _ Resting. Hungover. Drunkenly dead to the world again. _ “. . .preparing himself for the upcoming festival for Dionysus.”

There are murmurs from the others, all stemming from excitement.

“How is it coming along?” Kim asks. “If there is any assistance needed, we are at your disposal.”

“No, everything is in order,” Seungcheol replies. He is probably a little too quick to shoot their offer down, but he doesn’t really wish to stand there and play a role his father should be doing. Seungcheol is in pain, yet he is here, not passed out in his quarters.

If everything is in order, he isn’t sure, but he knows it will be when the time comes.

Thankfully, they are content with his reply and they continue to discuss everything else that Seungcheol gratefully tunes out. This time distracting himself with Hansol.

“Are you able to stay for the festival?”

He could use a friend. He could use the company. Hansol would have made last night bearable.

But Hansol shakes his head.

“I need to return the day before. I’m sorry.” Hansol pauses and turns his attention back to the floor, as if to pretend he is listening, as if they aren’t whispering like two bored little boys at an adult event. “We can try to do something before I go.”

Seungcheol’s heart aches, but he agrees nonetheless.

The assembly adjourns minutes later and Seungcheol is thankful. Thankful he can finish the last errand then return home.

“Do you need me to walk you home?” Seungcheol finds himself asking Jeonghan before he can even filter the words.

Raising one eyebrow, Jeonghan studies Seungcheol, then claps a hand onto the other’s shoulder. The latter winces and he is ashamed of it, showing a reaction or weakness. “You think I can’t remember the way? I am a man, not a pet.”

_ No. But you are my father’s pet. _

Seungcheol forces out a smile. “Even pets can find their way home.”

Jeonghan laughs at his joke. It sounds like he is mocking him. 

Shaking his head and patting Seungcheol’s shoulder again as if they were best friends sharing a good laugh Jeonghan replies, “Then you have no reason to worry. You aren’t the only one with business to attend to.”

Finally, Jeonghan steps back. Nodding his head towards Seungcheol to bid him farewell, and then in greeting to Hansol who comes up and replace him. 

Hansol watches Jeonghan walk off before he faces Seungcheol. “You decided not to murder him yet. Very good.”

“Not yet,” Seungcheol grumbles. He then sighs. “I have to drop off payment to the temple because my father is useless to do it.”

“Oh! I will come with!”

The centurion flashes a bright smile and Seungcheol confirms he really must be a little drunk. But he nods, happy to have the company of his lost friend.

“Alright. Let’s go.”


	5. IV. Joshua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues on as usual. Or not “as usual” — something is now clearly different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it has been longer than I expected... I am so sorry everyone >.< first of all, I apologize (as I just said). A lot happened in the past couple of months. I had my own personal things to take care of as well as a family emergency come up. Anyway, I am back (actually I was writing this chapter since I last published—so don’t think I forgot!!) and I plan to update regularly. Yes. So thank you for your patience and not giving up on me yet (hopefully)
> 
> I wasn’t too satisfied with the editing of this chapter but I figure I really owe you guys to give you and update. And myself. I would go crazy if I didn’t update yet. Ahaha—- so please forgive the errors that I’m sure are there. As always, comments and kudos are loved >.<

That night, Joshua couldn't sleep. The stinging in his back made it impossible to get comfortable. It technically wasn't night when he started to sleep. It was closer to dawn, or even technically morning. They typically have to work until everyone had their fill of partying. That would sometimes be noon. But Jeonghan gave Joshua permission to leave earlier. Joshua knew he would get in trouble for it, but really he would have gotten in trouble if he didn't listen to someone with such a high status.

When he reached his building, his superior, Seungho, was waiting for him.

Livid.

Five lashings later, and an order for no one to help him dress his wounds, Joshua was able to go to his bed, although he couldn't sleep.

His bed is in the common room which is filled with other boys who work either as wineboys or as slaves. They are packed there with their dingy cots with hardly enough space to walk in between, and it always smells stale and disgustingly masculine.

An hour or so later, Joshua gives up on sleeping. He winces as he sits up, a small gasp escaping his lips.

He catches one of the other boys watching him. As soon as Joshua is about to tell him to stop it, the other closes his eyes as if he was sleeping and nothing ever happened.

When he changes his tunic, he peels it off as gently as he can. The blood glued the fabric to his skin and every section he tears off sends a new searing pain shooting up his nerves. He curses, eyes watering.

It takes a while, but Joshua manages to get out of his clothing and pulls on another dull white tunic, hoping no blood will seep into this one. Because no one was allowed to help him, he was unable to get bandages wrapped around it. He glares at his stained tunic, knowing his superior would enjoy seeing how much redder it turned.

He tosses it to the side and leaves the room with slow, cautious steps.

Soaking more than washing in the nearby creek, his back numbing from the chilly water. It is the closest he is able to get to comfortable and clean.

Scrubbing his face, Joshua attempts to wipe the yearning for sleep from his eyes. When he finishes bathing, he returns to the building and adorns yet another tunic. Just as tan as the first one; light enough to show if he starts bleeding. If only he could be allowed to wear a darker color.

He heads to the kitchen. It takes up most of the building, and the first set of slaves are there, already preparing bread for the family. Some spare him a glance, then return to their jobs of kneading dough.

"Didn't work long enough?" The head chef asks Joshua when he spots him.

"From what I heard, he didn't much work," one of the slaves mutters to another. The latter steals a glance, but then looks away quickly when he catches Joshua turn around.

The chef raises one eyebrow, but he doesn't address it.

"Couldn't sleep," Joshua confesses. The chef hums in reply, and Joshua sighs. "I can run to the market earlier today."

The chef doesn't take long to dish out a list of everything he needs from the market. Nodding, Joshua drinks it all in, and it doesn't take long for him to leave and start heading to the market. The sun is shining brightly by the time he is outside, glowing in a blinding way everyone hungover from the feast would dread. His back is still throbbing, although a little duller than before, and his bones ache beneath the pain.

The longer he has to think about it, his night with Jeonghan feels more and more like a dream. The honey and the wine, so intoxicatingly sweet. A racing thrill as if he just tasted ambrosia, a little sample, and all he can think about is more. His memory is fuzzy and the details are blending together as they do in dreams. The only clarity is the chiseled jawline of Jeonghan, the coy, mischievous grin of his, and the slight tilt of his head.

It couldn't be real.

The city isn't far from the household, yet it takes a bit longer for Joshua to get there. His steps slow, careful, his mind lost in the foggy memory of yesterday. When he reachs town, he focuses more, convinces himself it was a dream and now he is back in reality.

He finds his way to the usual merchants. Trading what little money he is trusted with for what he is asked to get. Placing orders and requests for upcoming feasts, and gathering some food in another life he would have to harvest himself if he wasn't lucky to be handsome enough to be a wineboy.

Some try to get his attention and ear, knowing he works for such a powerful family and making him a worthy target. Trying to convince him to give word to his higher-ups, to take their services, products, and food. Some even passing off complimentary ceramics or blankets or whatever for the noble family. Joshua never can thank them and run away quickly enough.

***

The run to the town is quick. Quick in referring to the errands, that is. Joshua may be only one step up from a slave in rank, but they treat him as a messenger to the gods.

And when he returns, he is back to what he really is: a small improvement on a slave.

Joshua returns to the chef, setting his bag now filled with gifts from eager townsmen. Some of the boys watch him enter. He can feel their eyes on him, although they turn away before he can catch them.

The chef remains unbothered.

"Trouble?"

"No, sir."

"Good." He gestures to the pile of vegetables waiting on the nearby wooden table. "Go work."

Claiming his spot at the table, he does just that. No one looks or says anything to him as he tears the vegetables, preparing them. Not until he is almost finished does someone finally address him.

"Nuh uh. No. He is  _ not _ going out there tonight."

Joshua stiffens when he hears his supervisor's voice. The man who just entered. The very one who seems to insist on tormenting Joshua further.

"And what makes you think you have a say in the runnin's of my business?" The chef's voice booms. Joshua notices some of the other boys scurrying out of the way. Giving them space, hopefully to not be seen, to not get in trouble as well. "You for gods' sakes know we have a fair schedule to run things by and if you start to swap boys, then it all goes to Hades. I don't come in tellin' you how to run your wine operation now do I?"

Joshua clutches his hands to keep them from trembling. Wishing his back wasn't turned to them. Wishing they wouldn't discuss his fate like he is a clueless animal.

"It isn't about messing up the schedule. It is about him ruining the dinner. No one will be able to eat when they see him. A boy that torn up does not fit the standard to serve a noble family!"

Torn up. His back. They were talking about his back. It must have started to bleed again.

"Then we will change his damn clothes. He will prance along like he is all fine. You handle your own troubles on your own but you aren't takin' one of the best from me tonight!"

Joshua closes his eyes. Waiting for what he thinks is coming. The comeback. The yelling. His superior's final fit to make sure he pays for what happened last night.

However, what comes is: "That is fair. I apologize."

"Damn right you do. Now get out!"

"Yes, yes. But first let me help? Joshua. Come with me."

Joshua's back screams in agony as his muscles tense. His cuts throb as if they know more pain is coming.

The chef grunts and Joshua abides to his superior's wishes, following the other man into the next room. He allows Joshua to walk in front of him, making it seem like a nice gesture. But he doesn't waste a second in grabbing the back of Joshua's tunic and tearing it off him. It isn't a smooth motion as if the wounds sealed themselves onto the wool, and when it finally gives, Joshua gasps, his eyes watering. Tears threaten to slip out and a scream catches in his throat; he doesn't want to give Seungho that much satisfaction.

Joshua attempts to keep his composure and goes to turn around, but he is jerked back in place by his superior. Something pushes into one of Joshua's wounds; he bites his bottom lip, still trying to maintain whatever actual composure he has left.

"At least you listened. Didn't bandage up. Funny, you listen to that but not don’t-spill-wine-on-Lord-Seungcheol." He pushes down harder. Joshua's peripheral turns darker. "You will be facing so much worse if you decide to make me look like a fool tonight. You got that? Or I will not hesitate to help you find out what it is like to take a bath in your blood."

And with that, he shoves Joshua away, and he leaves. But not before Joshua catches the glint of red on his superior's thumb. He shivers, and not just because he is left standing there naked to get his own change of clothes.

***

Most of the set-up is done before the noble family comes to eat; however, today, Seungcheol arrives much earlier than usual, accompanied with someone Joshua recognizes as  _ Centurio _ Hansol. Guests are fairly common at normal family dinners, so it isn't a surprise or something they aren't prepared for, but the centurion’s presence is still unexpected, especially during the middle of a battle.

Out of his peripheral, Joshua watches them as they enter. Light-hearted. Talking. His throbbing back reminds him of their encounter last night. The sheer horror when he realized, out of all the people at the feast, he collided with Seungcheol. The glass shattering, his hands sticky with wine. Thoughts racing through his head of what would happen to him, only to worsen when he asks for his name. Seungcheol clearly didn't play his hand yet; maybe he got distracted and he forgot to tell on the one disgraceful wineboy he now knows by name.

Joshua hopes that isn't the case. Maybe he found out he was already punished by his superior and saw no need to do anything else.

As long as he didn't forget and the sight of Joshua wouldn't trigger the memory.

He watches with relief as Seungcheol dismisses himself. To where, he doesn't know. And Joshua sees his chance: he can assist, but still remain invisible. Attend to  _ Centurio _ Hansol, then fade away into the shadows and stay far away from Seungcheol.

Unless he is called upon . . .

Gathering the goblets and platter, he makes his way to Hansol.

"Sir  _ Centurio _ ," he says, casting his eyes downwards, refusing to even glance at Hansol, "please. Help yourself. It would be an honor to serve you tonight."

Somehow, Joshua is thankful when Hansol just flashes a crooked, toothy grin and takes one of the goblets and makes himself at home on one of the lounging places. Joshua retreats to the back and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

After some time, Seungcheol returns. Someone else is accompanying him this time. Joshua watches, trying to remember the boy's name; he has seen him before, and he knows he is a slave, but the name escapes him. For a second, he wonders what the slave is doing here. Never has he heard of Seungcheol stealing away a slave for his pleasure. His father, yes, but never the son. He preferred to be alone, to isolate himself. Romance and sex wasn't his thing. At least, that's how it seemed. Unless--

"He was gifted to him last night," a female whisper behind him answers. Joshua didn't even notice he stopped to stare so disrespectfully.

But he isn't alone; the rest of the other wineboys also stopped Even some of the slaves.

Joshua says nothing and watches Seungcheol sit across from Hansol. The slave, Soonyoung, he now recalls, folding into himself like a child. He continues to stand until Seungcheol tell the slave to join him. His movements are slow and unsure, but he eases down next to Seungcheol, eyes trained to the floor.

That’s when Joshua realizes they wasted minutes trying to figure out what was going on. Someone should have already been to Seungcheol's side, someone should have already addressed and attended to the most important person in the room.

His ears start to burn. If no one else approaches him, Joshua knows he should and if no one does it soon, then they will know something is up and all of them would be told on and get in trouble. Seungcheol would notice Hansol already with a drink and assume--

A younger boy makes his way up to Seungcheol. Chan is young and he is one of the newer boys, yet Joshua is impressed and relieved by his boldness.

He offers the goblets of wine to Seungcheol, who takes one. The wineboy keeps it lowered, expecting Seungcheol to give one to his gifted slave.

But instead Seungcheol turns to the slave and says . . .  _ something _ . Soonyoung stiffens and then stammers. There is a slight exchange between them: the flustered Soonyoung and the calm Seungcheol. Joshua wonders what’s happening as Hansol takes his turn to say something. The wineboy holds the tray out to Hansol and the centurion takes it, but only to set it on the table beside him.

Chan returns, appearing about as confused as Joshua feels.

"What was that?" One of the older wineboys hisses the question at Chan as if the whole exchange was his fault.

Dumbfounded, Chan simply replies: "Don't know. He asked Soonyoung if he wanted wine or not."

No one else has time to question because the head of the household finally descends the creaky stairs. His son, his friend, and his slave all rise to their feet and bow their heads in respect. The father's gait is slow and heavy; he pounds down on the final step much louder than the last. He sways slightly, one hand firm on the rail to keep him standing. His eyes are heavy and glassy as he scans the room, and everyone stands still, watching him.

"Where is Han?"

Seungcheol opens his mouth, but doesn't get the words out until a second later. "We, uh, went to town, but I don't know where--"

"Oh, I am never far."

Jeonghan enters the abode at the perfect time, and the head of the household relaxes, relieved from the sight of his lover. He extends one arm towards Jeonghan, and Jeonghan makes his way to him, gliding right to the hand that so eagerly cups his cheek, fingers stroking his hair.  _ Dominus _ Choi presses his lips impatiently to Jeonghan's, and for some reason, Joshua has to look away. The fact he spent the night with Jeonghan just yesterday, and now, seeing him with the head of the household, with the very man who personally inspected and picked Joshua to serve him and named him, akin to purchasing a slave, the selling of his soul into a kind of apprenticeship, makes him feel like . . . a fool. A farce. A joke to Jeonghan. Only someone to tease and to taunt, like raising a sweet just out of a child’s reach.

Joshua’s stomach turns and he buries himself in his own shame and resides to hide in the shadows for the rest of the night. Not wanting to be watched or seen, not wishing to catch Jeonghan mocking him. 

The family sits down.  _ Dominus _ Choi loosened Jeonghan's hair out of its tie so it drapes over his shoulders now. They sit close to each other, Jeonghan nearly on his lap as he holds the cup up for him.

The other boys and girls eagerly serve the family. Bringing food on trays and skewers for them to feast on. Joshua keeps his engagement with everyone to a minimum, choosing to focus on the food going out and when to change to the next course.

When they are about on their fourth course,  _ Dominus _ Choi addresses his son: "So I see you like your little gift."

Joshua notices Soonyoung’s back stiffen at the discrete mention of the slave. His father smirks, half dazed, and his eyes flickering from his son to Soonyoung, then back again. His fingers stroking through Jeonghan’s hair. The  _ eromenos _ is smiling, resting back into  _ Dominus _ Choi's chest, watching Seungcheol’s reaction.

"Yes. Thank you," is all Seungcheol replies, and places a hand on top of Soonyoung's knee, making the slave visibly wince, as if expecting to get smacked instead.

A followup question must have been prepared, but Hansol cuts him off before the head of the house can get it out, asking a question about a political event he missed when he was away. Soonyoung relaxes.

It doesn't take long for the exhausted  _ Dominus _ Choi to excuse himself early for the night, and Jeonghan follows shortly after. It is only then when Joshua can relax a little and finish.

***

The next morning, Joshua is woken early with two other wineboys and shuffled quickly out onto the road to another family. Every so often, families will request to borrow certain servers from other families to vary their tastes and provide new sights for their diners. Joshua so happened to be one of those chosen.

Getting dressed still proves to be complicated. When his supervisor tore his tunic off, he reopened the already fragile healing wounds, and, when Joshua undressed the night before, he noticed that he bled through his new tunic while he was serving. Of course, the piece dried once more and he had to tear it off yet again and reopen his wounds. At this point, he would never heal. Or, he would heal, but his back would scar. Badly.

He decides, as he changes once more, maybe he would have to sleep naked.

Their journey to the other family's house isn't really long, but it also isn't short. It takes them awhile to get there and they are put straight to work. Joshua is at least thankful he could spend away from most of the judgemental looks from the other workers. For one day, he doesn't need to worry about crossing Seungcheol or Jeonghan's path.

It is late when they finish, the sun is nearly setting. He makes his way back to the common room with the other two boys, but one of the female servants stops them.

"N-No! I'm sorry, you aren't allowed in there yet."

"I think I'm allowed to sleep after this fucking day," one of them starts to say, but she shakes her head.

"You can't go in yet. It's Seungho."

That gets Joshua's attention. Seungho. His supervisor.

Before she can continue, another boy joins in. It is Chan. "He was whipped in town today, pretty bad. We're giving him the space--"

"What happened while we were gone?" The same boy protests, but the pounding in Joshua’s heart drowns it out. It is rare for Seungho to get himself into trouble, and even rarer for a punishment to happen if he did. Then who would do it?

"We don't know, but Jeonghan ordered it."

Jeonghan . . .

"Jeonghan? But he never gets involved.”

Then he can’t breathe. Joshua knows it. All of a sudden, he understands.

_ You will no longer touch this boy, or else I will personally oversee your lashings in the square. _

No. It couldn’t be. Joshua has to be imagining it. There is no way he meant it. It just isn’t possible—

"Apparently he did something to really piss him off."

“What the fuck did he do,” the same boy continues, obviously tired and annoyed by this time. “How do you piss Jeonghan off?”

Joshua’s chest clenches and he knows he can’t stand there any longer, and he takes off. Running away and away to wherever to get fresh air.


	6. V. Hansol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hansol disembarks on his journey, he doesn't expect it to be quite different than his last few. Yet it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you forgive me for editing this after editing my essay. Although I am tired of editing, I thought I was doing a good job and thought to upload the next chapter. Therefore please excuse the usual mistakes >.< also I feel like sharing this document is already 48 pages long and that confuses me for some reason. lol. oh well. Enjoy!

Seungcheol falls onto his back, glaring up at Hansol standing over him, his sword pointing to Seungcheol's chest.

"You cheated!" Seungcheol protests, glaring at the other man.

Hansol just laughs. "When you fight for your life, a lot of people cheat. Not everyone is honorable, especially when they would rather  _ not  _ die."

"Damn you, Hansol," Seungcheol curses and Hansol continues to laugh, finally withdrawing his sword so Seungcheol can get up.

Last night, he stayed in the guest room at Seungcheol's home. After breakfast, before Hansol could leave, his friend insisted on sparring. He also insisted on using real swords, saying he is good enough and there would be no need to worry about his safety. For some reason, he always insists on using real swords despite Hansol's best efforts to convince him there is nothing wrong with wooden swords. "Too childish" remains to be Seungcheol's excuse. Yes, Hansol agrees, it reminds him of when they played as boys, but he would rather have Seungcheol feel like a kid than to gift his friend yet another scar from his sword.

Luckily, the metal didn't catch Seungcheol's skin this time.

"Yeah. Damn yourself, Cheol, when you battle someone who doesn't have the decency to stop."

Seungcheol curses again and jabs Hansol's leg with his foot. The latter sees the kick coming, but he allows his friend a bit of satisfaction for finally dealing a strike. Hansol just continues to laugh. Seungcheol pushes himself up and brushes the dirt off his black robe.

"I think you just wanted to win," Seungcheol grumbles.

Hansol shrugs. "Just want you to be careful in the future. There are two types of fighters in the world: those who dance and give you your fair turn, and those who will throw sand in your eyes. Sometimes both fighters are the same man."

Seungcheol searches his friend's face for a second, then asking, "Are you being a philosopher or just drunk?"

"A bit of both, actually."

Seungcheol shakes his head, then picks up his own dropped sword with a sigh. "You are wise beyond your years."

"Yeah. War will do that," Hansol replies and turns away. He isn't sure if Seungcheol is serious or mocking him. Maybe a bit of both. He chooses to ignore it.

Shielding his eyes, Seungcheol gazes up to the sky. Hansol does the same, watching a flock of birds fly by.

"Jihoon sent a letter. He is coming in a couple of days. Are you sure you can't stay?"

Seungcheol is looking at him when he turns back. Somber. Frowning. The three boys grew up together, and it has been ages since Hansol last saw Jihoon.

"I don't make that decision. I could be here for your birthday, and even that was by chance." Hansol kicks his foot against the dirt.

"I miss you," Seungcheol says, surprising Hansol with his sentimentality.

"Someone has to do it. If I don't, they will make someone else who doesn't want to."

Slapping a hand onto his back, Seungcheol smiles. "You are a good man, you bastard."

Hansol bursts out laughing, and bends over and laughs harder and harder. His friend watches him for a moment, then he joins in. Both of them laughing like they did when they were little. It isn't even that funny, and yet it is. Providing some much needed relief, akin to a catharsis. Some good-spirited fun that is always missing when he is out on a campaign.

Both of them wipe their eyes and Seungcheol asks his slave to grab them some wine. Soonyoung listens and moves quickly; he is so quiet that Hansol forgot he spectated their fight.

"Why did your father even give you a slave?"

Seungcheol's face twists, nose wrinkling. "You know exactly why."

"So he doesn't know you are dead from the waist down?" This time, Hansol allows a smack to his chest. 

"Does that mean you know your manhood isn't dead?" He adds with a playful grin. Another smack. Hansol laughs as Seungcheol's eyes narrow.

"You really are a bastard, Chwe."

"Sir  _ Centurio  _ Chwe," Hansol corrects him with a smirk that is greeted with three more accompanying hits.

Soonyoung returns with a small platter with two cups of wine and Seungcheol takes one and raises it up.

"To Sir  _ Centurio  _ Bastard Chwe. May I take back ever missing you and may you always be away at war."

Hansol snorts and raises his cup up as well. "And may Lord Seungcheol finally discover what is below his waist."

The other's eyes narrow. "Be thankful I am civil enough that I don't dump my wine at you."

Laughing, Hansol takes a sip, and Seungcheol follows suit shortly after.

***

Hours later, Hansol is far away from his childhood home. Since beating Seungcheol shamelessly, he spent the rest of the day travelling. They hit two cities to try to recruit soldiers, and they stopped at the second to sleep the night. After making two inspiring-yet-desperate speeches, Hansol is  _ done _ . Some of the other men go out to drink, but Hansol excuses himself. Along with three of his other men, he is staying at a small home belonging to an older husband and wife. It is where he decides to hide for the rest of the evening. 

Not that his day was too exhausting. Yet, somehow, it was. Maybe it was his pathetic speeches, he wonders.

Or, he considers, what he thinks is exhaustion could actually be sadness because he misses Seungcheol and hates he won't get to see Jihoon. It has been years since they hung out together, and he wonders if it ever will happen again. Probably not. Not after they reached manhood and needed to take on responsibilities: Jihoon becoming an  _ eromenos  _ and an apprentice for a prestigious elder, Seungcheol practically running his household's political influence, and Hansol away and fighting for their empire.

_ Fuck it _ . He needs another drink.

Hansol steps through the door of the house and, within seconds, the elderly man and woman stand up in the sitting area to bow and greet him. He smiles, wishing they wouldn't do that. It isn't like he has  _ that  _ important of a title. They should be resting. He should be bowing to them.

"Sir  _ Centrio _ , I pray your words fell upon open ears today," the elderly man says, referring to Hansol's speech. It probably didn't, but he nods his thanks.

"We prepared a meal for you," the woman speaks up, her voice like a timid shrew, "as well as some food we wish to bless you with on your journey."

For a second, Hansol is baffled. Yes, they fight for the empire to expand and protect, but they have plenty of food. Every day, this couple has to go to the market and turn a profit, yet Hansol never wanted for money a day in his life. It is absurd.

"Thank you for your generosity. I will pass the news," he says, deciding to be polite instead of arguing. This pleases the two, and they smile.

"Your meal awaits in your room. Our gift to you is waiting next door until you take it."

Hansol thanks them again, stepping towards his room. He can't stop himself from turning back around and adding: "We greatly appreciate your gift, but we are grateful enough for a place to rest our heads for the night. Thank you. You have been too kind. You have provided more than enough, and for that, I thank you."

It would be rude to reject the food at this point, even though Hansol would prefer it. He rules to be honest with them, and tries to voice his opinions as kindly as he can.

Hansol finds a tray of bread, cheese, and fruit in their shared guest room. Deciding to save most of it for his men, Hansol only allows himself one slice of bread with cheese smeared on top. He steals a couple of grapes and chugs down the watered down wine. It isn't strong enough and it isn’t what he is used to, but it is only what they can afford, so he can't complain. He will get his fix tomorrow when he is back in camp.

Reluctantly, he decides to pack their gift before he rests. This way he can find out how much they gifted them and see if he can compensate in some way. They won't accept money, but what if he "accidentally" left some behind?

Next door is a broken-down building where they store the items they sell to make their living. It is located a little farther back and away from the pathway, and it is only half the size of their small house. The sun isn't quite done setting, so Hansol can see at least, although the shadows are starting to overpower the light.

Opening the door, Hansol is greeted by the fact he isn't alone. The bread basket's protective blanket is pulled back and before it stands a thin man clutching three loaves to his chest. He is young, and his round, boyish face makes him appear younger than he must be. He clearly did not expect anyone to walk in on him. Both of his eyes and mouth widen silently.

With the punishment for theft ranging from the loss of a finger to the loss of a life, the man does the most logical thing: run. Before Hansol even finishes processing what is happening, the thief's foot catches on a stray rope on the ground and collapses. The three loaves of bread rain down around him. One knocks a ceramic vase down and it shatters, echoing in the small building. 

Hansol approaches the thief who is attempting to cower into a tighter and tighter ball, his hands raised in pleading. A droning growl of the thief's stomach is much louder than it should be.

Two steps forward and the other man finally seems to recognize Hansol's garb. He isn't in armor, for all Hansol needed to do was make a speech, but he is still decked in the correct colors with the centurion insignia adorned on his left breast. White eyes focus on the crest, then back at Hansol who gazes upon him stoically.

"P-Please-! I--"

The thief sputters out a plea and doesn't get far. Through the other door, two of Hansol's men rush in. For a second, Hansol places a hand on his weapon, only from surprise, and the thief freezes. He would be justified to kill him, and he knows the thief knows it as well.

"Sir  _ Centurio _ ," one says, caught just as off guard as the thief. He salutes quickly and continues. "We heard a noise. We came to see--"

Hansol raises one hand, and the man silences. His focus remains on the thief, studying the figure. He is thin, though, despite being thin, his cheeks are full, although they are smudged with dirt. Dark circles encase his petrified eyes, and a small scab sits upon his quivering lip.

He means no harm. He is just . . . hungry.

_ Is that so wrong? _ Hansol can't help but wonder. He just told himself how unnecessary the gift from the elderly couple was. The thief needs it far more than he does, and who does it hurt if it would have gone to waste?

"Leave us. We are fine. He just tripped."

Out of the corner of his eye, neither soldier budges, and the thief focuses on Hansol's face. The centurion fights the urge to smirk; he wishes to bask in the intruder's confusion.

If his men need more convincing, then they will get more convincing.

"He saw me come in here, and he followed me," he says, continuing his explanation. "Came to plead to join us on our campaign. Declare his rank and ensure all of his earnings will be sent to his family. Too excited with his words, he fell. A vase broke. Everything is fine. You can leave now."

Both soldiers remain hesitant, but then they salute and maneuver their way out. They wouldn't dare disobey his command twice.

When Hansol is confident they left, he relaxes. He grabs two loaves out and holds one out to the thief, but he doesn't take it.

"Take it. We have more than enough. We can spare some."

Again, the thief doesn't budge. Hansol sighs and plops the bread back into the basket.

"Then take it when you are ready." He kicks some of the broken ceramic out of the main pathway. Flashing a quick smile to the other, he goes to leave. And he is about to step out the doorway when he hears:

"Did you mean what you said?"

Hansol stops and swivels back around. The intruder is sitting up slightly, but he still has hardly budged. "About what?"

"Money. To my family. You can send it to them?"

Hansol considers for a second. "Yes. If you join. Otherwise we would have no reason to pay you." His lips quirk up into a crooked smile, laughing internally at his own joke. The other doesn't join in. Hansol shakes his head when he realizes. "If you wish, we leave at sun-up and we will take your pledge."

He studies the intruder once more. He is really too scrawny to be a decent soldier, and he might have it hard. 

It occurs to him how desperate he must have been to steal, and the same desperation could get him far. 

Or killed.

The thief gives a firm nod. Hansol has nothing more to say and steps out.

He hopes they are robbed tonight.


	7. VI. Soonyoung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol’s new personal slave Soonyoung struggles to figure out his new role in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. WOW. I apologize for this taking so long. I honestly didn’t even realize things took so long to get to this update, but it has been so crazy this last month with...well...everything going on. You think that would make easier to escape into writing (maybe I need to work on that...) So I really apologize for taking so long to update this, but a month can sometimes go by before you even notice?
> 
> This update I hope is okay. I wanted to finish writing and editing it as soon as possible when I realize I blinked and it was now the end of April. As always, I apologize for any errors on my part.
> 
> I hope everyone stays safe. Stay home and take care of yourselves and if you have to go out or go to work please please be careful. I don’t wanna talk about it much but it doesn’t feel right to not address it.
> 
> Any love is as always a good thing. I was gonna post an update on my twitter about this fic update then I realized no one who reads here would see it lol. If you wish to find me, I’m @seraph_jeonghan. Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> And I guess I can tease a little bit here: there’s gonna be some important chapters coming up. Important as in more people are going to be introduced very shortly (a lot of people-) and things come a little together :)

About an hour after  _ Centerio _ Hansol leaves, Seungcheol asks Soonyoung to clean up the guest room for Jihoon. Of course, Soonyoung obeys, and his master goes to isolate himself. Soonyoung straightens the room until it is spotless and finishes relatively quickly. He lingers in the room, knowing he shouldn't, but something in his master's demeanor tells Soonyoung not to bother him. So he stays in the room, fixing the tiniest of details, so if someone happens to walk by, he at least looks like he is busy.

He works there as long as he can. Another hour and a half later, Soonyoung finally emerges and goes to his master's room. His steps are slow and reluctant, but he finds the room empty. He pauses, debating what he should do and which option would be the least likely to get him into trouble until he hears yelling coming from downstairs. Soonyoung's back stiffens, yet he wanders closer to the stairs. He recognizes the voices of his master and Lord Choi. He stops at the top stair, peering down, trying to see what is going on, although his instincts tell him otherwise. He notices Master Jeonghan standing off to the side, his arms crossed and watching the exchange between father and son.

". . . raise a son like this. You are not a child so grow the fuck up and be a man! Your mother would hate to find what a disappointment she birthed!"

It's his father. And Soonyoung stiffens as he hears a smack. He takes a couple of steps back from the stairs. Afraid. Afraid it will turn on him if he is caught. He turns and runs, heading back to the bedroom. Back to pretending he is cleaning. He doesn't care. If he already hit his son, if he found Soonyoung, he would—

He hears footsteps on the stairs. He pretends to work, but his hands are shaking. There is no reason for one of them to turn on him. That’s what he tells himself, although he doesn’t believe it. It doesn’t really matter for a slave. He tries to straighten a pillow for the third time, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. Would Master Seungcheol use Soonyoung to make himself feel better?

As the first one makes it towards the top, he hears a second set of footsteps.

“I don’t wish to speak with you, Jeonghan,” Master Seungcheol says. He is the one at the top of the stairs.

“Someone has to apologize,” Master Jeonghan replies. It sounds like he is at the top of the stairs now, too.

“Apologize?” Master Seungcheol asks, his voice tight, ready to finish the fight with his father’s  _ eromenos _ instead.

“Yes. Apologize,” Master Jeonghan replies yet again. Cooley. At ease, as if he knows Master Seungcheol couldn’t harm him with fists or words.

Soonyoung takes a cautious step forward. They are standing outside of Master Seungcheol’s room, across the way from the guest room. Master Seungcheol is studying Master Jeonghan, eyes narrowed and muscles tightened while the latter appears so relaxed as if he was only going for a stroll.

“Alright then. Apologize. You haven’t done an adequate job at controlling him.”

Master Jeonghan’s lips twitch subtly. “He started drinking last night. To recover from the night before.”

“And where were you? It is the middle of the day and—“

“ _ And _ you know I cannot control him. I advised against it, but he didn’t listen.”

Master Seungcheol doesn’t bother to argue again. “I told you I didn’t wish to speak with you—“

“Neither do I,” Master Jeonghan interjects, receiving a glare from the other, “I have more important things to attend to. Regardless, I apologize for his overreaction. I will see to him the rest of the day.”

A muscle in Master Seungcheol’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else as Master Jeonghan descends back down the stairs. The other man retreats back into his room.

Soonyoung doesn’t move, unsure what to do or where to go. He isn’t used to this; it is only his second day living in his master’s house as Seungcheol’s personal slave and he doesn’t know what is expected of him. Yes, he has a faint idea, but he belongs to Seungcheol. Does he go after him? Does he allow his master to use him for whatever he needs in this moment, be it a beating or sex?

And is he unsure because he isn’t quite used to this life or because his master is Seungcheol? On his birthday, Seungcheol did not bed Soonyoung, and he hasn’t bothered to any other night. At first Soonyoung wondered if his master was disappointed in him. Maybe his looks weren’t to his taste. Perhaps he expected better than Soonyoung. Or maybe he did something to already upset his master. At night, Soonyoung would lay awake, waiting to be summoned to his master’s bed, to give him pleasure and bliss. But it never happened.

And there was last night. When they asked Soonyoung if he would like a cup of wine. Soonyoung was so stunned and baffled he thought it was a joke.  _ Centurio _ Hansol and Master Seungcheol both looking at him, waiting for a response, waiting for him to fall victim to  _ something _ . Soonyoung shouldn’t have a preference. Seungcheol should take the wine for him. Seungcheol should force it down Soonyoung’s throat. And Seungcheol should mount him in bed.

And yet, they asked what he wanted. And he didn’t know.

Soonyoung knows what to expect of Seungcheol’s father. Slave after slave he drags to his bed; most do not talk about what happened, but he has heard vague details about the encounters. They are all the same, the only difference is if his  _ eromenos _ was there or not.

But Master Seungcheol never took a slave. Ever. Unless someone is keeping quiet and hiding a secret, no slave ever has been pulled into Seungcheol’s hungry embrace. It is as if father and son aren’t even related.

It is why his father chose Soonyoung. To help guide his son to what he should be doing, to what he should be enjoying.

Days before, he came to choose between five slaves he considered decent enough to be the gift. He examined their bodies, asked a couple of questions, and dismissed each one by one until only Soonyoung remained. 

And he gave him the command: "Make my son a man."

What would he do if he figured out Soonyoung hasn't been able to do that? 

The darkest parts of his mind told him he would be executed and replaced. 

Should he be doing more? Could there be a way to force Seungcheol's hand?

This might be his opportunity, Soonyoung realizes. Let Seungcheol do whatever he needs to to make himself better. That is what a personal slave is supposed to do, anyway.

He sends a quick prayer to the gods and makes his way to his master's room on shaky legs. The door is left open, so Soonyoung quietly inches his way into the doorway, but not too far.

Seungcheol is sitting on his bed, his back turned to the doorway. Soonyoung wets his lips before he speaks.

"M-Master?" It is all he manages to get out. His master doesn't turn around, so Soonyoung walks in slowly. Seungcheol stands up then faces Soonyoung, making the latter freeze. He notices the bright red mark on Seungcheol's cheek, and he averts his eyes so he won't stare.

"Did you complete the room?" He asks, although he must know Soonyoung completed it. He had more than enough time. Soonyoung nods. "I don't have any tasks left for you. Go ahead and see if the other slaves could use your help." Soonyoung nods again. So much for forcing his hand; he is kicking him out. 

"Tomorrow we are going to the colosseum." Soonyoung looks up, the statement getting his attention. "We were invited by the emperor to watch the fight and we cannot decline. Gather three wineboys when you've finished to bring with us."

Soonyoung wonders if that is why he looks upset. Jihoon is due to arrive tomorrow.

"Joshua," Seungcheol says suddenly. "Get Joshua. He is good." Soonyoung nods once more and waits to see if he will say anything else, and when he doesn't, he goes to leave.

"Soonyoung, did you know your parents?"

Soonyoung stops in the doorway when he hears his master's question. He turns back slowly. Seungcheol is turned again, not facing Soonyoung, so he can't see his expression.

Yes, he knew his parents, but he was separated from them when he was so young, all he remembers is flashes of them. Images of their faces are fuzzy, and he doesn't really remember them, but the /feeling/ of them. Safety. Security. Love. Before he was torn from them, crying, screaming, confused.

"No," he answers.

"I didn't know my mother," Seungcheol says. "Yet I know I wished I had her." He hesitates, then adds, "I would rather not know either of them."

Soonyoung is left wondering what he should say, or what he could say.

Before he can decide, Seungcheol waves him off. "I will see you tonight."

***

Soonyoung spends about two hours looking for Joshua until he learns he is away for the day. Feeling like a fool for wasting time asking around for him, he stays quiet and works by himself in the small bath house. He stays away from the others, aware they are all exchanging looks and whispers about him. Has he slept with Seungcheol and why does he get special treatment, what did he do to deserve it, it should have been this other slave who was considered, and so on.

And they're right. Soonyoung knows he isn't special and he certainly isn't better than any of them. He was only chosen because Lord Choi liked him best. Why he did, Soonyoung doesn’t even know.

When he finishes his work, he goes to eat his meal amongst the other slaves, waiting to hear when Joshua's group returns. He sits by himself, eating, discreetly listening to the chatter around him. Once there is a shift and they talk about the other wineboys' return, Soonyoung finishes and excuses himself.

He doesn't know who Joshua is, so he asks someone if they have seen him and he points Soonyoung in the right direction. Soonyoung follows the path and ends up near the sleeping chamber where two boys are standing a little bit away. Soonyoung recognizes one as the one who served him last night, the one who experienced the bizarre question if Soonyoung wished for wine. The other boy he doesn't recognize, and he is clearly distraught: wide eyes, breathing quickly.

"A-Are you sure you're okay?" The one who served Soonyoung the night before asks. "Did something else. . ." He trails off as he spots Soonyoung.

Despite not wanting to interrupt, Soonyoung has no choice. He bows once, apologetic. "I-I'm sorry. B-But are you Joshua?" He isn't sure which one of the boys he is really asking, knowing one is a wineboy and suspecting the other one is as well.

The one boy breathlessly struggles to gain air before he answers, "Yes, I-I am Joshua."

Soonyoung exhales in relief. "The noble family is attending the colosseum tomorrow. Master Seungcheol asked for you personally."

Joshua blinks, swallows once, and nods. “I’ll be there.” He doesn’t ask any other questions and doesn’t stay longer, hurrying away, clearly still upset about something that Soonyoung can’t even bother to worry about. He has his own problems.

The first boy watches Joshua go and Soonyoung blurts out. "I-If you are available, they could use your service as well."

"I guess--"

"Chan! Are you coming or what?" Other servants call out to the boy. And Soonyoung stares a bit longer than he should at the wineboy he now knows as Chan turns to answer.

"Yeah. Yeah. Go on. I'm on my way."

Soonyoung stands there. In awe. Chan. One of the newer wineboys, but becoming the most famous. The boy attracted attention, naturally, especially from the masters. He heard whispers of how so many noblemen and women have called upon him for the night. Someone popular and notorious.

When he turns back around, Soonyoung asks, "You're Chan?"

Chan scratches behind his ear, a slight pink now filling his cheeks, unable to look Soonyoung in the eye now. He doesn't confirm, but he doesn't deny. "I-I have something I need to do tonight but I can find a way to get there, so, yeah, I can."

Something tonight. Of course. Of course someone is expecting him tonight.

Before Soonyoung can even piece it all together, he sees his chance. His opportunity. And words are leaving his mouth before his mind finishes forming the thought.

"Will you teach me to be like you?"

Chan snaps to attention. "To. . .what?" He asks, seeming sure he didn’t hear the slave correctly.

"Can you teach me? How to flirt? Seduce?"

Soonyoung's heart pounds as Chan blinks, puzzled.

"Uhh. . .sure. . .?"

_ Maybe I'm not condemned by the gods after all _ , Soonyoung thinks to himself.

Chan continues on, saying something like he doesn't know exactly how he does it, but he can try, but Soonyoung tunes him out. Lord Choi won't be beheading him just yet.


End file.
